


thirsty work

by erebones



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ejaculate, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Shibari, Squirting, Trans Caspar von Bergliez, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Wet & Messy, vaguely modern setting i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23797132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: It’s not that Linhardt had never considered the prospect—he had, at length, doing a few night’s worth of research fueled by sheer curiosity and, later, intrigue at the complexity of the practice. He could admit to himself the idea of tying Caspar up was a nice one. Cas was as energetic in bed as he was out of it, and Linhardt didn’t exactly have the brute strength required to pin him down and fuck him hoarse. But, as usual, some other topic had crossed his path and he had leapt headfirst into it, leaving the art of rope-tying behind. At least until Caspar broached the topic hesitantly one night, in the humid warmth of a midsummer afterglow, and Linhardt felt a hot coil of intrigue unfurl in the depths of his pelvis.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 5
Kudos: 123





	thirsty work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hanabi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanabi/gifts).



> i'm sooooooo nervous to post raging smut right out the gate for a pairing i've never written before, but i gotta break the ice somehow!! this is for lys whomst i love very much, and it includes sexy rope stuff, top lin, lots of squirting, and sweet talk. hope u like it ahhhhhh
> 
> obligatory content tags: caspar is a trans man and i use terms like cunt/clit/cock (triple threat babey) as well as hole, pussy, etc. to describe his junk.

Caspar is so pretty when he blushes. Pink and blue together. Sweet as cotton candy. Linhardt sticks his tongue out and flicks his clit mercilessly. Above him, Cas wails and writhes like a man possessed, held in place by yards of silken rope. Linhardt shuts his eyes, smiles, and settles in.

It had been Caspar’s idea. The rope. It’s not that Linhardt had never considered the prospect—he had, at length, doing a few night’s worth of research fueled by sheer curiosity and, later, intrigue at the complexity of the practice. He could admit to himself the idea of tying Caspar up was a nice one. Cas was as energetic in bed as he was out of it, and Linhardt didn’t exactly have the brute strength required to pin him down and fuck him hoarse. But, as usual, some other topic had crossed his path and he had leapt headfirst into it, leaving the art of rope-tying behind. At least until Caspar broached the topic hesitantly one night, in the humid warmth of a midsummer afterglow, and Linhardt felt a hot coil of intrigue unfurl in the depths of his pelvis.

Now he is reaping the rewards of his unintentional foresight. Caspar is on his back like a little crab, knees to his chest, arms affixed to the headboard with rope. Linhardt had taken his time applying it. That was half the fun, figuring out how each knot and loop fit against Caspar’s sunkissed skin. Half the fun for Cas, too, judging by how wet he was when Linhardt finally pushed his knees back and opened him up to the room.

Linhardt leans back on his elbows to admire him. Blows gently across his cunt and thrills at the visible clench of Caspar’s muscles around empty air. He wipes slick from his mouth with the back of his hand and reaches up to test the rope pinning his thighs to his chest.

“How you doing, baby? Feeling good?”

“Hnn—mhmm.” It’s less of a word and more of a sound. Not because Caspar’s mouth is stuffed or bound—they’d tried it once and neither of them found in particularly satisfying—but because of how delightfully far gone Caspar is already. _Already_. Perhaps that’s a bit generous. It’s been at least twenty minutes since they started, not counting the rope-tying. _Perhaps_ Linhardt should take pity on him. Or perhaps not.

“You’re being so good for me,” he croons. Mottled red creeps down Caspar’s chest like a sunrise in reverse, and his panting mouth falls open wider, silent but desperate. “Such a good boy.”

Caspar quivers on the mattress, hole fluttering. Linhardt licks the pad of his forefinger and pulls back Caspar’s hood with it, exposing his cherry-red cock to the open air. “L-Lin… please…”

“There you are. Not like you to run out of things to say.” Lin drops a kiss to his shin and lets his hood snap back into place. “Look at you. So pretty. Such a good handsome boy, you’re doing so well…”

Linhardt isn’t even touching him, crouched on hands and knees as he pours syrup-sweet words over him like a benediction, but it doesn’t matter. Caspar is on a hair-trigger. A few more soft praises and his cunt tightens up, clear ejaculate spurting out to dapple the sheets with spots of wet. Linhardt sighs his approval, leaning up to brush a hand through Caspar’s hair.

“Perfect. Brilliant. Oh, you clever boy.”

Caspar’s plump lower lip is impossible to resist. Linhardt slips his thumb inside and hums when Caspar sucks on it like a piece of candy. The inside of his mouth is a little bit tacky, dry from gasping and moaning so sweetly, so Linhardt allows him to suckle a little longer before withdrawing and getting out of bed.

“Lin—wait, please, come back, I’ll be good—”

“Shhhh, sweet, you’re so good. I’m just getting you a sip of water.”

He reaches for the glass on the bedside table, put there earlier for this express purpose. Caspar is often thirsty after sex, and never remembers to get water to keep on the nightstand; Linhardt hates giving up the post-orgasmic cuddles for even a second to allow Caspar to slip to the kitchen for a glass. Caspar doesn’t usually need a drink _during_ sex, but then, neither is he usually tied up during sex, being teased and toyed with until he’s hoarse.

“Here you are,” Linhardt soothes, leaning over him. He cups the back of Caspar’s head with his left hand and monitors his intake carefully. When half the glass is gone he returns it to its place for later. “Better?”

“Mmm. Much.” Caspar smacks his lips, eyes bright and dark as sweet cherries. “May I have your cock now, please?”

Linhardt barks with surprised laughter. “Of course you may. So polite all of a sudden.”

Caspar doesn’t respond to that, not verbally. He blushes a little pinker, tucks his chin against his sternum. Linhardt doesn’t press him, only pets him as he climbs back into bed, ignoring the wet spot on the sheets. The position Caspar is in makes fucking him slightly more complicated than normal, but Linhardt is determined. He pushes his briefs down enough to free his cock and rubs it against Caspar’s pussy a moment or two.

“Like that?” he teases, pushing a strand of hair out of his face. When had he gotten so sweaty?

“Mmmm. More.” Caspar wriggles a bit—not much, too constrained by the ropes, but enough to tease the head of Linhardt’s cock with his own. Linhardt hums and braces his hands against the mattress. “Linnnnnn.”

“What, baby?”

“How are you gonna put your cock in me like that?”

“Very… mfff… carefully.” Hair swings in front of his eyes despite his best efforts as Linhardt watches Caspar’s folds smear against the underside of his cock. “If you hold… very still…”

“Ha! Easy.”

“Like _this_.” Linhardt pushes a finger under the rope that loops just below Caspar’s nipples, tugging roughly. There’s not a lot of sensation left in that area, but the faint rope burn is enough to set Caspar squirming. “What did I just say?”

“Can’t! Help it!” Caspar grunts. “You just feel so good, Lin, fuck—”

A quiet keen escapes him as Linhardt teases the head of his cock inside. Cas is so slick it’s a bit of a slippery endeavor, but it only takes a few tries to get in good and deep. Caspar howls, and it’s like music to his ears. Linhardt shoves his hair out of his face and hammers him hoarse.

Caspar has been his sole focus for so long that Linhardt had almost forgotten his own arousal. It’s paying him back now in spades. Even the awkward angle, elbows locked to keep him from banging into Caspar’s shins like a screen door with every thrust, isn’t enough to dampen the wildfire coursing through him. Linhardt feels sweat dribbling down his forehead and lets it happen, shutting his eyes against the sting. Too bad, losing sight of Caspar as he crumbles to pieces, but tt’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

“Lin, oh fuck, oh _fuck_ baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming—!”

Linhardt feels the tension rippling around his cock and knows he’s telling the truth. He grinds into him a little faster, keeping it deep in the cradle of his hips to avoid slipping free—a very real danger, as cum gushes out of Caspar like a fountain, soaking Linhardt’s balls and dribbling down his thighs to seep into the sheets. Linhardt fumbles belatedly for the towl and shoves it at Caspar’s bum to mop up the mess, groaning as his own orgasm starts to overtake him.

“C’mon, baby, you’re almost there,” Caspar slurs. The sound of Linhardt’s cock in him is obscene, sloshing and wet—internal orgasms get him going every time, and once he starts it’s hard to stop. Linhardt bows his head and chokes out a garbled moan, fingers digging into the meat of Caspar’s ass. “That’s it,” Caspar is saying, though Linhardt can barely hear it through the rushing in his ears. He gasps for air at the feel of Cas tightening around him and tries to marshall his thoughts in the immediate wake of orgasm.

“Do you—”

“One more, Linny, please?”

Linhardt nods and eases back, rubbing his hand over Caspar’s clit without finesse. It’s so nice and fat and slick against his palm; sometimes it’s too sensitive to be this rough, but right now Caspar is wailing and cumming again, drenching the towel and quivering so much Linhardt half-expects the ropes to snap.

“Okay okay okay okay,” Cas babbles, and Linhardt eases off, bracing his wet hand on Caspar’s inner thigh and bending to kiss the strangely delicate curve of his ankle.

“You’re beautiful,” Linhardt tells him, strangely self-conscious. He almost hopes Cas didn’t hear, but from the look of surprise on his tender, blushing face, he heard all right. Caspar smiles, just a little—just enough to expose his crooked front teeth—and Linhardt buries a toothy kiss against his bum. “Hold still.”

The ropes come off easier than they went on. Caspar sighs sweet little sighs as Linhardt unwraps him like a present, stretching his limbs, massaging his thighs and calves as he comes unraveled. The towel is tossed aside for now; the sheets are still damp in places, but drying quickly from the sheer heat Caspar’s body exudes at all times.

Despite Linhardt’s care, the ropes left their mark. The deep pink remnants of their touch crisscross Caspar’s skin like constellations, point to point, writing a path for Linhardt to follow with lips and tongue and fingers. Caspar mewls and unfurls against him, rubbery and unkempt.

“Linnyyyy.”

“Yes?”

Caspar wrinkles his nose like he does when Linhardt is pretending to be obtuse. “C’mere, baby.”

Linhardt had been trying to tidy the ropes and the bedding and his erratic thoughts, but those two words summon him instantly. Like a bedraggled moth beholden to the flickering porch light, he crawls up the length of Caspar’s war-zone body and snuggles in beside him. “I’m all sweaty,” he says, more observation than apology.

“So? Me too.” Caspar wraps his arms around him and kisses his mouth, even though it probably tastes of snatch. His tongue rasps softly at Linhardt’s lower lip, then inside. “Hang on.”

Linhardt blinks his eyes open just enough to watch Caspar reach across the mattress for the glass of water waiting half-undrunk on the nightstand. He sips from it, throat bobbing pleasantly, before passing over the rest. “For me?”

“Yeah. Drink up, baby.” His eyes crinkle up, all mischievous. “Tying all those ropes musta been thirsty work.”

Linhardt accepts the glass, and finds himself gulping it down in great swallows before pulling off to gulp in air instead. “I didn’t realize I was so thirsty.”

“That’s why you’ve got _me_ to take care of you.” Caspar flops back down onto the pillows and stretches his arms out wide. Sweat still gleams on his pectorals, curls darkly in the hair under his arms. Linhardt has a brief and overpowering urge to bury his face there, but resists at the last moment, tucking his nose into Caspar’s neck instead.

“We should,” he says, and yawns halfway through, “take a shower. We’re disgusting.”

“Mmhmm, sure are. I’ll set an alarm for twenty minutes, how’s that?”

Linhardt considers this. Weighs the tacky feeling of dried sweat and cum against the warm, sturdy thud of Caspar’s heartbeat, the softness of the sheets. “All right,” he sighs, and settles his hand just _so_ against Caspar’s ribs, so that his thumb can brush the soft, knobbly little shape of a nipple now and then, like the world’s strangest stuffed animal. “And then we have to change the sheets.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t _yes, dear_ me.” Linhardt pinches his nipple in retaliation, and only gets a rumbly laugh in response.

“Okay, baby, whatever you say.” Caspar nuzzles a bristly, stubbly kiss to the side of his head. “Thank you. For trying that with me. For _tying_ it with me, ha!”

“Hmmmmmmmm.” Linhardt’s eyes are already closed, but he smiles and traces the slightest indent of rope still marked beneath Caspar’s pec. “Maybe next time I’ll suspend you from the ceiling.”

“ _Lin!_ ”

“What? Scared?”

“...you promise?”

Linhardt shakes with silent laughter. “Promise. Now go to sleep, before you waste my precious naptime with your jabber.”

Caspar mumbles something that sounds dangerously like _yes, dear_ , but Linhardt is too close to dreamland to complain.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is really ooc i'm still getting a handle on them ;;


End file.
